Trunk (Character)

Druid 3rd (circle of the land: swamp + grassland in Dunstrand Vale)
Hit Points: 6, 5, 5 + 6 = 22


Strength = 15
Intelligence = 10
Wisdom = 15
Dexterity = 10
Constitution = 15
Charisma = 10
Sanity = 11

Proficiencies +2 @ 3rd

Armor: Light, Medium, Wooden Shields
Weapons: clubs, daggers, darts, javelins, maces, quarterstaffs, scimitars, sickles, slings, spears
Tools: Herbalism Kit, Artisan Tools (__?__)
Saves/Abilities: Intelligence, Wisdom
Skills: Animal Handling (wis), Survival, Athletics (str), Religion (int), Nature (int)
Languages: Gladnorian (speak + literate), Druidic (sign/symbol)

Druid Abilities

Use Ritual Casting, Use Druidic Focus
Druid Spells equal to your Wisdom modifier + your druid level = 6 prepared spells
Spell save DC = 8 + your Proficiency Bonus + your Wisdom modifier
Spell Attack modifier = your Proficiency Bonus + your Wisdom modifier
Cantrips: (2) Shillelagh, Thorn Whip + Mending
1st level spells: (4) Create-destroy Water, Goodberry, Cure Wounds, Speak With Animals.
2nd level spells: (2) Barkskin, Gust of Wind
Extra Circle Spell Options: Invisibility, Pass Without Trace, Darkness, Melf’s Acid Arrow.


Armor: Hide (1 resilience) + wooden shield (1 resilience) = 14 AC
Weapons: Club (d6/3)
Druidic Focus


Background: Folk Hero

If you’ve been in the barony of Crestwold any length of time, especially near or in the Dwindor Swamp, there is a rather good chance you’ve seen Trunk. ‘Trunk’, as he introduces himself, is an enormously large, ridiculously physiqued half-orc with numerous scars. If you’re wondering why he calls himself Trunk, it is most likely because of the distinctive large section of tree he uses as a club, with what appears to be the stump of said tree as a shield. He associates with the druids of the Pranin Moorswood, and spends time traveling from the lumber camps and steadings, to the forest, and to Torrelsons Ford with messages and supplies. Over the years, the locals have grown accustomed to him, a few even look forward to his visits.

If you live anywhere along his route, he most likely waved at you, or came and talked to you, or helped you in some way. Something that large should be frightening, and he certainly looks the part, but you’d only think that until you saw him napping in the shade of a tree, playing with the children, or carving a new bauble, trinket, or toy. This benevolent behemoth, this gentle giant is something of an oddity, to be sure. The milky white right eye with long deep gashes down that side of his face, the missing right pinky finger, the height and breadth of this half-orc make him seem most brutal, but few could ever mention having seen him even mildly upset. He always has a kind word, a ready smile, and is always willing to lend a very large hand. And if a domestic animal is ill, injured, or unruly, he will cure or calm it. If a predator is prowling, he will send it away. When asked about his methods, he usually replies, “I asked it to leave.”

Trunk’s appearance is made more odd by the symbol of the Witch of Dwindor Swamp. He knowingly and willingly serves the “Lady of Dwindor”, as he calls her. When asked, he tells a story from his youth about having been attacked and almost killed by a moor cat. He was ambushed, and grabbed a nearby tree to use as a weapon. He claims as he lay dying, having fended off that fell beastie, that the Lady came to him in a fever dream, and asked for his help, in exchange for healing his wounds. He accepted eagerly, wanting to serve her in any way he could, being most appreciative of her protection and guidance of his people. Since then, he has happily, knowingly and willingly been her devout servant. He would never boast, but he is a powerful druid of no small amount of skill in nature magics, choosing to help, heal, and generally maintain the balance of nature and civilisation in the Dwindor Swamp and Dunstrand Duchy.

This man is a gentle and kind soul, to be sure, but he is still a half-orc. Perhaps you have seen him wrestle in the competitions held near the Pranin Briarwood during the fall equinox and spring festival of Ezrilus. It is there his kindness gives way to an almost prideful display of physical prowess. He is not a fighter, by any means, but still manages to hold his own against the more martial members of the locals – and it takes a heartiness and strength to work in the nearby logging camps! He also travels to the Briarwood in Torrelsons Ford for the festivals there every other year. Using his great size and strength in these sanctioned bouts, he usually doesn’t take first prize, but the ones that have beat him usually do.

Being a half-breed of any race is a hard life, but Trunk takes his mixed-race heritage as well as anyone. Few locals give him the general ration of grief that accompany such a blend, because of his size, and those that do usually stop after seeing his holy symbol. That he is half-orc is apparent, and is how he answers when asked, but what is the other half? Large even among his large race, what could have been mixed to create such a burly example of Orrish blood? There is much speculation and rumors.

Meeting the Gallants

For years the voice of the Lady of Dwindor has been silent, but her power has continued to flow. Finally, a voice has called to collect its due. The skies above the Sabin Bay have been especially dark for weeks. The wind has whipped the waves onto the shores, salting the beaches. The smell of brine can be sensed miles beyond. Elancil, the storm queen and patron of Gwinn has directed her anger at Crestwold – the barony is sombre. An invasion force arrives on its shore. The druids of the Pranin Briarwood decide to safeguard their natural resources, leaving the steadings and camps in the Pranin Moorswood to the mercy of the invaders. Trunk has many problems keeping himself in check – he disagrees with the enclaves decision. After months of open warfare, Gwinn is finally defeated in the Pranin Moorswood. There is now forces constantly in Crestwold though, and the battle is being joined all year round. Trunk is asked by the witch to go to Torrelsons Ford find the group of Gallantine cadets known as the Blackwell Squad. He travels to the town swiftly, informing his fellow druids but offering little explanation – they know who he serves. Torrelsons Ford is more dour and depressed than he has ever seen it. He hears many rumors, some fantastical as to what has been happening. It does not take long to find The Blackwells, where he reports his mission to replace the one known as Tellip Wellworth at one time. The voice and power of the Witch of Dwindor has been enjoined to their aid.